A pretty wet snow covers our muddy world — temporarily, for sure, a grace of sugar snow in a long mud season. Early March, and I’m already hanging the laundry out to dry, the pale green nubs of perennial bulbs pushing up through matted debris of last year’s leaves, broken twigs.
On a warm afternoon, I put the snow shovel away — my usual blind enthusiasm about spring! I’m the woman who rails against reduction, that the world can be defined as this or that. This world is nothing but gray, an unending smear of thaw and freeze. And yet, I’m wrong about that, too. Daily, the bird chorus gains, the winged creatures flocking in the box elders in the ravine behind my house, feasting at the feeder in the mock orange.
A poem from the late David Budbill:
“What Issa Heard”
Two hundred years ago Issa heard the morning birds
singing sutras to this suffering world.
I heard them too, this morning, which must mean,
since we will always have a suffering world,
we must also always have a song.
Stony Soil Vermont 
nice
Thank you!
Lovely piece, as always. Spring is early here in Pennsylvania too, since we didn’t have much winter. Daffodils starting to bloom all over. I’m still afraid to put away the snow shovels…I’ll give it a bit longer and try not to tempt Mother Nature into fooling us.
Wise choices. Happy to hear you have those lovely daffodils.
I too am hanging laundry out again, although probably not today. The slushy mixture has turned to rain here.
So much rain, rain, rain…..
the stream beds are overflowing
Beyond metaphor, really.
Oh this is so lovely and thought-provoking. Thank you!
Thank you for reading!
This is one of my favorite Budbill poems. As always, an excellent pairing with your writing!
Yay, for David Budbill!
Lovely.
Thank you!
No way to “Like” your post, but it’s lovely! Thanks for sharing.
I deleted the Like option a few years back, but thank you anyway!
No grace of sugar snow here – love that – just the longest mud season ever, in muddy Westmorland far north of England.Precious little sun, so our early spring is patchy, split between the plants that need light and the rest, happy just with warmth. Wild daffodils will be over by Easter.
Good luck with that longest ever mud season…. The slog.
Thank you for taking an interest in my blog.
Sure!